I fuss and groan at the state of events. Having just been forced down a cramped corridor out of the snug, warm confines of the only home I've ever known, it's understandable how irritable I am. I am cold and wet: covered in some sort of mucus. It's not the most comfortable state, I assure you.
“Easy does it, Apple Bloom.” I hear a rhapsody of sounds, and I feel like they should mean something to me, but they don’t. The sounds are soft, soothing; it's somehow reassuring. Unconsciously, my head turns to the source of the sound, hoping to capture more; it’s all I can do given my apparent inability to perceive anything otherwise. “It's all over. Y'all did good. An' look! It's a beautiful pegasus filly, just like her poppa!”
Indignantly, I am suddenly moved and a draft hits me, causing me to shiver. When I cry out, I suddenly feel something brush across every bit of my body. This attack is startling, but not at all unpleasant; I am no longer wet and sticky. Finally, something fuzzy and warm wraps around me, leaving only my head open to the air.
Aside from some weak gasping breaths, it is silent. Then, a weak sound catches my attention. “Ah...” More breaths. “Ah wanna see her, Applejack. Ah wanna see my baby girl.”
It hits me that I've heard the tone of these sounds before. I remember how serenaded me and comforted me inside my home for as long as I can remember. I want to turn my head to the source of the sounds, but to my surprise, I feel something attached to my head flick towards the sound instead. I can still hear the sounds better, but it isn't what I want. I whimper at my own inexpert motor functions.
“Look, Applejack, the little darlin' knows the voice of her Momma.” It is a deeper, but no less soft, sound. There is something else to it: pride. “Ah reckon we should let Apple Bloom hold'er for a while.”
I am moved against my will once more, but this time, I feel something supporting me more firmly, as I am nestled against something warm and soft. I can feel this warmth through whatever it is I am wrapped in, and it feels so familiar, so right. My cheek makes contact with something warm, and suddenly I feel much happier. A contented sigh escapes me. This almost feels like home. Almost.
I can feel a rising and falling from that which I am nestled against. That cherished sound begins again. “Gosh, Applejack...” The sound became sad, and soon I can hear a snuffle; the movements I feel reflect every sniffle and sob. “She's just so darn beautiful... an' Ah'm so happy, but why can't Ah stop cryin'?”
The sadness in the sound that elicits an uncomfortable feeling with me, and something on my face begins to tremble. I want to be able to do something to be comforting, and make the sadness go away. In the end, all I can do is burble softly, and nuzzle against the warmth. I receive one final sniffle followed by a happy sigh for my efforts.
“Big Mac', don't she remind you a lot of Ma? Same lime-green coat, and I'm sure Granny's mane was like this before she got older! Y'see it too, right?” That sound—voice?—makes me feel happy each time I hear it. “Ah think Ah wanna name her in Ma’s memory... How 'bout Aurora Golden Gala?”
“Eeeyup,” that deep voice sounds again. Its tone is a bit intimidating, yet soothing at the same time. “That there's a wonderful idea, Apple Bloom. Ah'm sure Featherweight will be right understanding. He did marry into the Apple Family after all.”
“That's right, Big Macintosh.” It's that first voice again. Filled with a certain frankness, it begs trust. “He's sired Ma's legacy; he'll be thrilled knowing his daughter is named in respect of an elder!” There was a happy noise from this source.
I want to go home; it's so much warmer there. The constant beat-beat that was the ambient sound there is almost completely absent here. With my face against this warm, soft surface, though, I can just make out a faint echo of that sound. It's so entrancing that I find myself drawn in. Nothing else matters now that I've been drawn into this peaceful sound.
“Ah think—” I hear a tired breath. “—Ah wanna take a nap. Ah'm plum tuckered.”
“Sure thing, sugar-cube,” the other soft voice continues. How I long to understand these sounds they are making. “Y'all need all the rest ya kin get. Featherweight'll be home soon, an' ol' Doc Freemane is comin' by in the morning.”
I barely notice the voices now. All that matters is the peace this beating sound brings me. The longer I listen to it, the more I feel at ease. It's a close reminder of home. Soon enough, all thought escapes me, and everything fades into the warmth my cheek is leaning against. My world is warmth and peace.
A bizarre click and whirr jerks me into focus. Where am I? This isn’t my home. The all-encompassing warmth is long gone. The only warmth now is provided by my fuzzy wrapping and whatever my cheek is pressed up against. I frown at my rude awakening, and nuzzle this warm surface so similar to home. I don't know how I know how to flex my facial muscles in a way that expresses my displeasure; it just comes naturally I guess.
“Look, Apple Bloom, I think she's waking up,” a voice—not one of the three I've heard before—says. This voice made that set of sounds again, too; ah-puhl-bluhm. What does it mean? Again, I wish I understood the sounds these voices make.
“Well of course she's gonna wake up, dummy.” the familiar voice retorts in a quiet but protective tone. I realize that whatever I am nestled up against was the source of this voice. I take comfort in knowing that I'm not alone. “That camera of yer's is too darn loud.”
I burble contentedly and fuss against my wrappings. My tiny limbs are cramped in this swaddle and I need to stretch them. That’s one bright side to no longer being in in my home; I am free to stretch these limbs that, admittedly, were ill suited to my former abode. With an inexperienced twist of my tiny body, I roll my encapsulated form away from the warmth and struggle against my bindings.
“Silly little filly,” the new voice says, seemingly directed at me. “You'd have an easier time if you opened your eyes.”
I struggle defiantly against these fluffy bindings, and continue to do so, until I hear that familiar voice and feel myself pulled back against its warmth. “Please don't fuss now, Aurora. We'll have plenty of time for play later. Can you show your Momma your pretty little eyes?” Momma? I like the way that sounds; it sounds safe.
I coo inquisitively, unsure what to make of what she's saying. Perhaps she wants me to do something? But what? I jerk one limb up out of my wrappings victoriously, and wave it about. I continue to do so, eliciting amused sounds from the deep voice and the one that made me feel safe, but without warning, the limb collides with something, and I experience something I'd never felt before; pain. My snout aches as I realize my haphazard flailing is the cause of this. A sob escapes me as I squirm, trying to get away from the offending limb.
Without warning, I feel something soft, warm, and moist press against my wounded snout. “Poor darlin'! Let Momma kiss that better!” It radiates soothing warmth across my face. I squeal with delight at this sensation, and wish to somehow thank this kind soul for soothing my hurt. Gently, I reach out with the limb I had flailed about earlier, and search for my savior. When it makes contact with something soft, firm and warm, I hold it there and nuzzle affectionately in gratitude.
I giggle, drawing much pleasure from this exchange. When the other being draws back, out of my grasp, dejection and loneliness fill my belly, even while still nestled firmly against it. That lonely feeling washes away when I feel something firm against my face, just above my snout to the right. It presses upward in a most gentle manner, and then lets go. A quiet murmur goes on above me. Again, the stimulation is applied, but in a spot to the left of the previous occurrence.
A sharp exhalation followed by a throaty sound startle me.; their fear is tangible in the air around me. “Oh no,” the newer voice whispers in its unfamiliar tongue. “Is our daughter blind?”
“We don't know that!” my warm neighbor hisses. “We don't know that! Wait until Doc' Freemane gets here!”
Why are they afraid? Should I be afraid too? I muss about unhappily in my binding as I try to understand what is wrong. I simply can't, though. I remember the sensation of those parts of my face being gently lifted. When it happened, I felt something in my face. If I could do that myself, might it please them? No... They were upset when it happened before! I scrunch up my face in anger, and move on to contemplating the hard ends to my limbs.
I don't know how much time has passed. The voice that says Momma is still right next to me, making soothing noises at me whenever I fuss. More than once it serenades me with a melodious voice filled with mixed sorrow and glee. Soon after, I seemingly drift off time and time again, enchanted by the beating I can hear within them.
The moments of peace are agony, however. I can amuse myself momentarily by flailing my limbs around, but the memory of the stricken snout is still fresh in my mind. I get away with only a few aimless attempts at locomotion before a soft nip at the back of my neck lifts me back to rest against that familiar warmth. What my explorations tell me is that I sit between two limbs of a larger creature, nestled against it for warmth.
Just as I think I might doze back off to sleep, a strange sound from within me scares me into full wakefulness. Unable to comprehend the source of the sound or this empty feeling spreading inside my belly, I begin to cry out loudly. In an instant, I hear a ruckus and the two deep voices and the voice that yearned to be trusted peeped a question at the Momma voice.
“I think she's hungry.” The Momma voice sounds tired.
“You just relax, hon. I'll make sure she gets there,” the newer deep voice grunts. Unceremoniously, something picks me up by the back of my neck again, but not as gently as the first time. It was another being that held me; the owner of the second deep voice if I had to guess. I'm placed down again near another warmth.
I sniffle dejectedly; what was the point of that? I sniff again. Such a strange feeling... Something comes into my nose... and I feel things? I decide to see where this sniffing can lead me; something sweet and appealing is in the air, and I will find it. I fumble about in search of the source of the smell using my face, until my nose comes to rest on something swelling out from the warmth of this other being. It's tipped by more, elongated flesh. The enticing scent is definitely coming from here.
The idea that I might be intruding on someone else's body leaves me soon after I prod the flesh with my nose a few times. Something deep down inside me tells me to go for it, and I take the flesh into my mouth eagerly. With some disappointment, my tongue is treated to a few drops of this sweet nectar. I try gumming it with my tiny toothless mouth, but that only elicits a moan of discomfort from the Momma voice. As I am about to pull away, lips pursed, a flood of the delicious fluid swells into my mouth, partly spilling down my chin. I swallow it greedily.
Sadness strikes when I swallow the last of it. How had I done that? I think back to it. The whole thing was in my mouth, and then I pulled my head back, lips pursed. Maybe if... I repeat the action, and am rewarded with more of this delicious stuff. I continue to nurse until I feel fit to burst, at which point I fall backwards away from the Momma voice and cry with accomplishment.
My victory turns out to be short-lived as a pressure begs to form inside my tiny little body. I scrunch up my face in discomfort and let out a soft moan. Without warning, I am again held in the manner I had been after being forced down the cramped hall. From there, I am pressed against something firm and muscular. A tattoo is beaten on my back, and suddenly the pressure in my chest escapes through my mouth in an expulsion of air.
“We should probably get a diaper on her, too. It'd be better if we don't have that mess to contend with when Doctor Freemane arrives, huh Apple Bloom,” the second deep voice rattles on, with only the slightest affirmative groan from the Momma voice. I don't have time to reflect on how tired it sounds. I find myself being rudely wrapped again, but this time the wrapping is only around the lower portion of my body; not something I'll be able to escape from as easily. To make things worse, I soon after myself again engulfed in the other, fuzzy wrapping.
At least there is a bright side. After these rude ministrations to my personage, I'm nestled once again next to the one who made the Momma sound. I know it's them after a cursory sniff reveals the nearby scent of that delicious meal. It feels safe and warm when I'm with the Momma, so I don't mind.
Something fluffy soft brushes the tip of my nose, causing me to coo in delight. It feels so nice that I have to have it. I struggle to free my stubby forelimbs from the fuzzy prison. It takes a few tries—confound this lack of fine motor control—but before long, I have them free and flailing again. The ends of my little flailing appendages come into contact with that same fluffy softness. When I inexpertly bring them together, I'm able to guide it back to my face and nuzzle against it. I sigh happily, knowing that this is heaven.
An amused series of sounds flow from the voices. “Aww look, she really likes Apple Bloom's mane,” purrs from the soft not-the-Momma voice, eliciting an amused, “Eeeyup,” from the deeper of two deep voices. The last thing I hear before I drift off again into the depths of sleep is a whirr and a click.
The sudden touch of something on my face startles me out of my sleep. A disturbing, unfamiliar smell is in the room; it almost overwhelms my sense of smell and I scream in fright. What is touching me? Furthermore, what is it with this place? Why can't I sleep without interruption? What is this frightening new smell? So many thoughts cross my mind in my panic. Tears stream down my cheeks as I try to understand what is happening.
“There there, Aurora... It's okay.” Momma's soothing voice fills my ears. Something warm and gentle caresses the top of my head. I still cry, reassured but not convinced of my safety. That stringent odor still persists. I can’t tell for sure, but seems to me that it originates a very short way away from my face. “Doctor Freemane doesn't want to hurt you.” Again the voice is soothing, even if I don't understand the meaning. Begrudgingly, I cut my crying back to an upset snuffle. “Attagirl.”
“So, Doc...” the second deep voice calls out as I feel another touch on my face. I realize this prodding, just above my snout to either side, resembles the way I was poked at earlier. Remembering my failed struggle to manipulate the muscles I knew had to be there, I aim to give it a second shot. The pressure is still on the spot just above my snout to the right, so I try every combination of facial configurations I can imagine until the sensation is mimicked left. I don't know why I have these muscles that don't seem to do anything, but I burble happily at conquering my face. “Tell us straight; is she ever going to see?”
“It's hard to tell at this point,” a new voice says. It's deeper than the second voice, but nowhere as deep as the first. “Going by the white glaze in little Aurora's eyes, she may start to see in a few years, or she might never see in her entire life.” Momma makes an unhappy sound, but the third deep voice begins to rattle on. “At this point in her development, it is better to wait and see. Besides, she seems like a happy and healthy filly, even without her eyesight. Aren't you, Aurora?”
The pressure on my face recedes for jut a second, and then I feel a gentle nudge against my nose. It tickles, evoking an amused giggle. This one has a strange smell, but they don't seem bad. “Well look at that, Momma's little angel likes the doctor after all!”
“Not like a certain somepony, as Ah recall.” I hear the other high soft voice again, speaking in a lower tone. It sounds similar to the Momma voice, but different at the same time. I can't explain it, but I feel like the two voices are related. In the same strange way, I feel that because this voice is seemingly related to the Momma voice—I've been hearing the Momma voice inside my home for as long as I can remember—that this voice is somehow related to me, as well. I turn my head in the direction of the voice, and attempt to smile, spilling a cascade of drool down my lips.
“Don't you go givin' my baby girl no funny ideas, Applejack,” Momma replies sternly to the other voice. I laugh at the funny-sounding word—A-puhl-jeck—but then I feel both relief and an uncomfortable sensation at my lower half. It feels wet and sticky, all pressed up against my bottom. A pungent odor fills my nose as I realize this, and I begin to cry again. I hear a sniff from Momma, and then she makes the talking noises again. “Whew, smells like somepony needs her diaper changed.”
“Well, if I'm no longer needed, take care Apple Bloom.”
“Thanks, Doc!” the second deep voice replies as Momma picks me up by the back of my neck. I know it's her because of the gentleness of it; not like the other time. It feels just like the kiss my nose received! I'm placed on a cool hard surface, and slowly, all my bindings are undone. The discomfort in my lower half is lessened immediately, but it is still there. Something damp swipes at my bottom, and I feel so much better.
Even drifting off to sleep as I am swaddled twice more, I feel safe as long as Momma is here for me. That touch, that voice, that smell; all of these aspects of Momma are heaven to me. I feel something whenever I meet this presence... Wanted... Needed... Loved. As long as Momma is here for me, maybe being here isn't so bad?
“Sleep well, Aurora Golden Gala.” Momma coos as she settles down with me. “You've got your whole life ahead of you, and the day has just begun. Even if you can't see, Ah love you with all my heart..”
I love you... Momma.
